


Beautiful World

by violinia



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-04-11 22:26:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4454726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violinia/pseuds/violinia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feliciano Vargas, a young, budding artist, sees beauty in the world that surrounds him. To be rewarded and uplifted for his talents, Feliciano is accepted to a school in Milan. There, he meets Ludwig Beilschmidt, who is a member of a prestigious football team that practices in the city. As the two become fast friends, fascination and curiosity soon take over and quickly make their lives into a big confused, but beautiful, mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduzioni

**Author's Note:**

> To clear up any confusion, when you see the term football (and if you're an American reading this), I mean soccer. Not American football. 
> 
> ~Katelyn

Feliciano saw the beauty in the nature of the world. The colors that surrounded the cities, from the trees and the flowers to the painted buildings and their graffiti covered walls. Feliciano had been fascinated with art from a very young age; he always felt the need to take his grandfather’s writing utensils that had been lying around and draw whatever he had in his head. Feliciano had fond memories of drawing on walls as a child and his grandfather laughing and joking that they needed to frame it (even though his grandfather would paint over it the next day).

The young, inspired Italian kept all of his sketch books over the years. Every now and then, Feliciano would remind himself of how far he had come by looking back at his old sketches. In his childhood, he had sketches of animals and plants; his teenaged years, he would sit out on a street café and draw the beautiful women and men who passed. Some sketches were of couples passionately having a conversations about each other’s day or staring into each other’s eyes lovingly. Feliciano was exceptionally good at capturing the scene in his sketches.

Feliciano would never forget the day he received the acceptance letter for the art school in Milan. His older brother, Lovino, sat by the dining room table with a huge envelope addressed to Feliciano. Lovino rarely smiled (and if he did, it was usually to charm a pretty girl nearby), so when Feliciano saw his brother beaming at him with pride, he knew there was good news around the corner.

“Is it the letter?” Feliciano asked, sitting down in front of his brother. Lovino nodded, his smile unfaltering.

“It’s the letter.” he answered. Feliciano snatched the envelope and ripped it open with excitement. After sorting through all of the information about his scholarship and calming himself down, Feliciano and his family went out for the evening to celebrate.

After the summer months passed, Feliciano and Lovino moved into their apartment in Milan. The next week, Feliciano attended his first class at the university.

“ _Buongiorno, studenti_ ,” the professor greeted. “Instead of boring all of you with the normal information, let’s just jump right into the art, shall we?” All of the other students looked at each other and eagerly opened their sketchbooks. “Hold on; do you think we’re drawing in this class? You do realize this is an art history class.” As Feliciano closed his sketchbook, he felt as if someone was staring at him. He looked around the room to find a guy with long, silky blond hair staring at him admiringly. “I hope you all have brought proper notebooks for the class; it’s a little sad that you all just assumed you’d be drawing in every single class here.” There was a tap on Feliciano’s shoulder.

“Do you have extra paper?” the guy behind him asked. His Italian was correct, but his accent was strange. His hair was a jet-black color and he looked Japanese or Chinese or one of those ‘ese’s. “Do you have extra paper?” he asked again, slower and conscious of his pronunciation.

“Oh! Yes!” Feliciano answered, pulling another notebook from his bag. “Hey, where are you from?” he added, handing the guy some paper.

“Japan.” The boy replied. “My name is Kiku.”

“Kiku? That’s a funny name.” Feliciano blurted; he was _terrible_ at keeping his mouth shut when he needed to. “My name is Feliciano; but sometimes it’s a mouthful, even for me, so please, call me Feli if you’d like!” Kiku only stared at him and nodded.

“Feliciano; that is a strange name.” Kiku said, with a small smile. Feliciano laughed.

“It is, I suppose!”

“Feliciano Vargas!” the professor shouted. “I’d appreciate it if you refrained from speaking as class is in session.”

“ _Mi dispiace._ ” Feliciano apologized. The class proceeded on and all Feliciano could do was draw on the side of his notes. He drew the clock, he drew the birds sitting outside his window, he drew the strange man who refused to stop staring at him. Feliciano wasn’t a fan of history, or any other subject for that matter (except for maybe music); all he wanted was to show everyone how beautiful the world truly was.

The class ended and Feliciano rushed out of the classroom almost immediately, making his way to the gardens. He had some time before his next class; enough time for him to begin another sketch.

“Hello,”

Feliciano glanced up to see the staring man standing before him with a soft, gentle smile. “ _Ciao_ ,” Feliciano said, smiling back. The man smirked and sat down beside him.

“I’m Francis,” he introduced. “Apologies for staring, but—“

“I’m Feliciano.” Feli interrupted.

“Ah, a lovely name.” Francis replied.

“You’ve got a crush on me, _sì?_ ” Francis froze, stunned, and chuckled.

“Ah, yes, I saw you walk in and I knew you were passionate about art…” he mumbled. “There’s something very gravitating and charming about you.” Feliciano shrugged.

“It will wear off,” he said, scratching a few lines on his paper. “In a few weeks, you’ll think I’m annoying. That’s what my brother always says; those you meet right away won’t always stick around.”

“We all have our flaws, that’s what makes life beautiful, _non_?” Francis added. Feliciano grinned; finally, Francis gave himself away as to where his roots were grounded in.

“ _Francese?_ ” Feli asked. Francis stared. “I knew there was something funny about your Italian.” Francis raised an eyebrow with a small smirk.

“You don’t sound like you’re from the Northern part of Italy, either.”

“I grew up in _Roma_.”

“And you have a brother? Does he go to school here as well?”

“No, he’s working to pay for the apartment. He’s never been very good at creating things.” Feliciano licked his thumb and flipped over to a new page; the sketch wasn’t right. “So, you’ve been here for long, right? What’s cool to do around here?” Francis sighed.

“Well, Milan is a beautiful city, so there is plenty to do. Aside from the tourist attractions, however, I suppose there may not be much. There’s shops of course, and cafes.” he answered. “There’s a coffee shop nearby; would you like to join me?”

“No, thanks,” Feli muttered. “I’m not in the mood for coffee at the moment.” He also knew that if he had any form of caffeine, he would no longer be able to control himself. Feliciano was naturally a wired, hyper person; adding coffee into the mix would be a bad idea. Besides, all he really wanted to do was sketch.

“Are you sure? If you’re new here, I can at least show you around.” Francis offered.

“Maybe later,” Feliciano answered with a smile. “ _Grazie_.” Francis sighed before standing up and walking away. Feliciano finally felt at ease; he was an extrovert for sure, however, being in a brand new environment was overwhelming. Besides Kiku and Francis, Feliciano hadn’t spoken with anyone else from his class, and most people thought of him as some ADHD-like child.

Twenty minutes passed and Feliciano had gotten the outlines of the centre of the garden completed. He added in a few people that he saw walking past; he combined some faces together (the features that were the best) so that they would not be able to fully recognize themselves if that had the chance. Feliciano smiled to himself as he put in some shading. He hoped that he would be able to transfer some of his beloved sketches into paintings once his painting class started in a few days. That would make his semester grand if he had the ability to do so.

“ _Achtung!_ ”

Feliciano heard someone shouting at him when he glanced up to see a football coming right towards him quickly. The young Italian slammed his sketchbook shut and did his best to dodge the round ball hurling towards him. Instead, he ended up making himself look like a total fool by flailing and screaming.

“ _Es tut mir leid!_ ” The man yelled, sprinting towards him. He stared at Feliciano with wide blue eyes, blushing in apology and embarrassment. “Uh… _mi dispiace._ My teammate kicked the ball too hard and there was nothing I could do.”

“It’s okay!” Feliciano assured, standing up and dusting himself off. He looked up at the man and froze; though Francis was blond haired and blue eyed, this man wore his features differently. His eyes were as cold as the icebergs sailing across the Arctic but had the color of the Mediterranean. Despite the fact that he had been running around, his blond hair was only slightly askew; it was neatly combed back otherwise. His skin was white as porcelain; so gorgeous and yet so fragile to the sun’s touch. His muscles were toned and firmed, perfect in every way.

This man who stood before Feliciano was the epitome of beauty, and all Feliciano could think of was how much he wanted a hundred pages in his sketchbook filled with his image.

“You’re an art student?” he asked. Feliciano blinked out of his trance.

“Yes! I am!” he answered. “And you?”

“No, I’m a football player; I have a scholarship.” The man paused. “I’m Ludwig, by the way.”

“Feliciano!” Feli answered, a bit too eagerly. “Where are you from? Your Italian is pretty good!”

“ _Deutschland._ ”

“Ah, you’re German! So, are you planning to be a big football star?”

“Ludwig! Can we get on with it?” Another man, whom Feliciano assumed to be Ludwig’s teammate, approached them. He was a strange looking man with big, caterpillar like eyebrows and a rat’s nest for hair. He was much shorter than Ludwig, Feliciano could see that the man had to have a short temper; he reminded Feliciano of a tiny ball of fire that seemed innocent but would destroy a forest at will. The strange man glanced at Feliciano before glaring at Ludwig. “We’ve got a big game tomorrow; there’s no time for horsing around.” The man was British, Feliciano knew that much. His knowledge of the English language was rather limited, but when he heard a British accent as strange as this man’s, it made him think of hungry seals with the ability to speak.

“Sorry, Arthur.” Ludwig grumbled. He turned to Feli, smiled, and waved. “ _Ciao_!” His friend, this ‘Arthur’, gave Feliciano a node (the typical foreigner’s way of saying “I acknowledge you but I can’t speak your language”) and turned away.

“ _Ciao!_ ” Feliciano cheered. He sat down, watching the two walk away, and opened his sketchbook to a new page, drawing the outlines of Ludwig’s beautiful eyes.

* * *

 

Feliciano walked into his apartment to find his brother pouring a glass of wine. “ _’Sera_.” Feliciano greeted, closing the door behind him. “Did you have a nice day at work?” Lovino made a face as he pulled out another wine glass from the cabinet.

“My boss is _extremely_ strange.” he answered, tilting the bottle and measuring how much of the velvety liquid was in the glass. “He seems sexually attracted to tomatoes.” Feliciano laughed, tossing his satchel aside. “And you day at school? How was it?” Immediately, Feliciano thought of Francis, the Frenchman who was very kind, but overly flirtatious to the point it was creepy.

“I think this guy was flirting with me?” Feliciano answered. “I really don’t know.”

“French?” Lovino asked.

“Yeah.”

“Ugh,” Lovino grimaced. “Figures; they’ll kiss anything and everything.” Feliciano’s laugh grew louder. Though they had their differences, Lovino and Feliciano could make each other laugh whenever either of them needed it. “Besides the weirdo, how was your day? Get any good sketches?”

“I did,” Feliciano replied, his voice trailing off slightly. Should he even bother telling his brother about the beautiful man he met today? Would Lovino even understand? He sighed; of course not, Catholics never did. “I met a few football players.”

“Okay, but what about the damn _art school_?” Lovino asked. “We came here for that, right? Not for you to play football all day.” Feliciano grinned.

“It’s only the first day, no? I can’t tell you what I think fully until a month, at least.” he said, teasingly. Lovino rolled his eyes and handed his brother his share of the wine. “Besides, today was mainly introductions and syllabi. Very boring.” Lovino chuckled.

“True.”

They sat in silence for a bit, casually sipping on their wine. This was a typical occurrence for the Vargas brothers; they simply would enjoy each other’s presence silently. Feliciano gently had his hands resting at the base of his glass as he stared into space. Typically, Feliciano wasn’t one to hide things from his brother. He wished to tell him about Ludwig and how beautiful he was, but it would cause confusion. Lovino didn’t think like an artist, and so he would immediately think otherwise. However, Feliciano wouldn’t have minded getting to know Ludwig in the way his brother would assume; he was an incredibly curious person.

Lovino finished his glass and sighed contently. “ _Cena?_ ” he asked, rising to his feet. Feli nodded and picked up his glass, lost in thought.

Yes, he would look out for the German in days to come.


	2. Freunde

“Another beer, please!”

For someone who was a lightweight, Arthur sure loved to drink until his heart’s content. Ludwig turned to the bartender, who was clearly fed up with Arthur’s mannerisms and constant English spewing.

“ _Una birra, per favore_.” Ludwig requested for Arthur. Despite having an incredible scholarship, being the team coach and having lived in Italy for two years straight, Arthur still refused to speak Italian. Especially when he was drunk.

“They understand English, y’know,” Arthur said, his words slurred. “They’re like the French; they can speak English, but refuse to do so!”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Mathias, a midfielder from Denmark, chimed in. He leaned forward and gave a wide grin. “Good try though.” The perturbed bartender slammed a glass of beer in front of Arthur, spilling some frothy liquid onto the table.

“Grah-tzee, mate.” Arthur cheered. Ludwig cringed at the horrible pronunciation of the simple Italian word. The Brit lifted up his glass and smiled. “Cheers!” Ludwig looked at his nearly empty glass and raised it as well.

“ _Prost._ ”

“ _Skål._ ”

The three of them tapped glasses and each took a sip from their designated cups. “You know Italian isn’t hard to learn,” Ludwig muttered. “At least learn how to order things.” Arthur laughed.

“It’s the twenty-first century, the new universal language is English. Italians are just slow as fuck.” Arthur replied. “Besides, Milan is a tourist attraction! They should be decent in English!” Ludwig shook his head; those who spoke English as their first language were presumptuous and assuming that everyone would accommodate to them. Though, Ludwig was thankful that Arthur wasn’t an American; Americans were the worst to deal with all around. They were the most demanding and the most obnoxious; even back in Germany.

Ludwig slid off of his stool, shoving his hands in his pockets and made his way to the restroom. He could only take so much of Arthur and his teammates, so he decided that taking a piss was a long enough break from the rambunctious bunch. Though, the restrooms were usually far from being quiet; there was always some tourist man receiving a blowjob or masturbating in the next stall. The pounding bass line from the music still pulsed through the walls of the bathroom, a constant reminder that you were wasting your money on booze that made your mind spin. And there was the one sink that never turned off, always constantly running. But, wandering was still enough for Ludwig.

After flushing the urinal, Ludwig turned on his heel and leaned over the sink, twisting both of the knobs for the faucet. As he rinsed his hands, his team coach (who was also his very own brother) stepped into the restroom.

“Luddy!” Gilbert cheered. “Living a little, I see!”

“You’re the one who brought us here, Gil.” Ludwig replied, flicking the access water off of his hands.

“I know, I know, but you usually decline the offer and sneak away from the pack!” Gilbert teased, punching his brother’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re opening up to the other team members, Luddy. It showed in your playing today. _Fantastisch_.”

“ _Danke_.”

“Keep up the good work, _Bruder_.” Gilbert gave him his proud big brother smile, patted him on the back and entered a stall. Gilbert not only taught and helped Ludwig earn a spot on the elite football team he coached, but Gilbert practically raised Ludwig. While Gilbert began attending _Gymnasium_ and Ludwig began attending primary school, their mother passed away suddenly. Their father, though he had given them wealth and a secure luxurious house, was absent the majority of the time (the only time he interacted with them was when he replenished the fridge). So Gilbert was a huge role in Ludwig’s life. As he grew, Ludwig became involved in football and focused on his schoolwork to keep his mind off of any emotional pain that came his way. And the only person who was aware of any mental breakdowns was Gilbert; he was a brother and like a father to Ludwig. Though they hardly showed it, Gilbert and Ludwig were very close.

Ludwig exited the bathroom to see Arthur swaying back and forth, singing Beatles’ songs drunkenly. Ludwig groaned to himself and approached Mathias, who was speaking to the rest of the teammates. “We’ve got to get him home.” he said, resting a hand on the Dane’s shoulder. Mathias turned to see Arthur and nodded in agreement.

“Sure thing.” he replied, standing up from his stool.

“We aaalll live in a yellow submarine, yellow submariiiiine…” Arthur sand, laughing. “Yelloooow submariiiiine! Come on guys, join in!”

“I don’t know that song, Arthur.” Ludwig mumbled. Arthur glared at him.

“You don’t listen to the Beatles? We can’t be friends.” he hissed. Mathias laughed while Ludwig rolled his eyes. “Mathias, tell me you don’t live under a rock and listen to the Beatles.”

“I’ve heard some of their songs, but I’m not an avid fan of them.” Mathias replied.

“Oh, you people! Come on!” Arthur shouted.

“Arthur, let’s go home.” Ludwig muttered.

“Who do you think you are? Me mum?”

“You’re drunk.” Ludwig replied, angrily.

“And you’re German! What of it?”

"We need to get you home.” Mathias chimed in, pulling on Arthur’s arm.

“Piss off! I’m not finished with my beer!”

“Arthur, you poured it on some Italian who was _kindly_ flirting with a lovely woman,” Mathias sighed, impatiently. “You’ve already finished your beer.”

“Well, they needed to piss off. I don’t want any gross kissing going on beside me!” Arthur shoved Mathias away. “Leave me be! I’m ordering another!”

“You’ve had enough beers to make everyone in this bar have a buzz,” Ludwig said, sternly. “Plus, Gilbert’s _not_ going to be happy with the tab because you’ve ordered more drinks than the whole team combined. _We’re going_.”

“Fuck off.”

“ _Wir gehen jetzt!!_ ”

The bar grew silent and all eyes turned to the three of them after Ludwig had raised his voice. The bartender began shouting Italian at them and angrily pointed to the door, speaking too rapidly that neither Mathias nor Ludwig could keep up with him. But they got the gist of what he was saying; they needed to leave right away. Mathias guided Arthur to the exit as Ludwig stayed behind, apologizing profusely to the bartender.

“ _Mi dispiace._ ” Ludwig apologized. The bartender folded his arms across his chest, scowling at him and huffed.

Apology not accepted.

Ludwig quickly exited the bar and caught up to Mathias and a stumbling Arthur. “We’ll be lucky if we’re allowed back to that pub.” Ludwig grumbled.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. They can’t turn down money!” Arthur joked, stumbling into the street. He missed banging his head against a light post by a centimeter as he tripped over the curb.

“We probably shouldn’t show up for a few days.” Mathias whispered.

“Agreed.” Ludwig replied. “Is he always like this?”

“After knowing him for a year, yes.” Mathias sighed. “I never know how he’s going to act either. Sometimes he’s an angry drunk like tonight, other times he’s depressed and other times he’s wild. You just never know with him. It depends upon what he drinks, too.” Ludwig groaned; he couldn’t understand how a team captain could be so irresponsible. After several more arguments, Mathias and Ludwig were able to finally get Arthur into his apartment, drink some water and settle him in bed.

Soon, Ludwig found himself in his own apartment and bed, staring up at the ceiling. He thought about the man he had met the other day. What was his name again? Had they even introduced each other? Feli-shi-ano or something, right? Ludwig thought about how the team could use someone on the team like him, so chipper and happy-go-lucky, someone to replace Arthur’s foul attitude. Though Ludwig had no idea if the man he had met could play football, but it would certainly be an interesting event to see. Someone as small as Feliciano would be quick and hard to catch; someone like Feliciano would be a great addition to the team, a good friend, even.

Yes, Ludwig would be on the lookout for the Italian.

* * *

 

“…And that is how I ended up at this _beautiful_ art school!” Francis concluded. Feliciano gently put down his paintbrush and turned to face Francis.

“Wow, I wish my life was as interesting as yours!” he replied. It was a bit of an exaggeration; like most life stories, Francis had over exaggerated and over romanticized his life. There were some parts that were interesting and believe it or not, they were the more truthful bits, but for the most part, Francis had proved that he was just like every other art student here attending the school. Feliciano was just being nice.

“Oh, it really isn’t that nice,” Francis said, pretending to be bashful. “I’m glad you think so, however.” Feliciano had to stop himself from rolling his eyes; would this guy ever stop flirting with him? “How’s your painting going? I’m so sick of painting and drawing fruits.” Feliciano sighed in agreement.

“I know; if I have to sketch another orange, I think I’ll scream.” he murmured, slouching. The past few weeks had been a blur; surprisingly, there had been a decent amount of work to complete in the first half of the semester. All Feliciano really wanted was some peace and quiet, sketching and painting at will like he used to. Plus, there was Francis; he was a nice and gentle man, but he was _way_ to forward with his actions. “And how’s your painting?”

“It’s good, but I’m sure it’s nothing compared to yours.” Francis replied.

“Oh-kay,” Feliciano groaned, his accent heavy in the simple borrowed English word. “We’re friends and I’m fine with you having a crush on me, but I’m not interested.” Francis stared at him, blankly.

“But you’re bi, _oui_?” he questioned. “You’re at least curious; every artist is.”

“Yes, but, I’m not interested.” Feliciano clarified, smiling. Francis continued to stare at him, confused as if he had never been rejected before. “Hey, I’m sure you’ll find someone better, right?” Francis slowly turned, facing his canvas and his lips twitching into a forced smile. “And who knows,” Feliciano added, shrugging. “Maybe I’ll be interested later.”

“Yes…later.” Francis said, his voice low. He nodded and picked up his paintbrush. Feliciano sighed with relief and continued painting. He simply did not come to art school for love affairs and romance; though he knew it would rear its ugly head eventually. Feli felt bad for Francis; he was the type of man who probably had men and women alike fall to their knees (and other positions) willingly for him in a heartbeat. Francis was just one of those type of men.

The professor clapped her hands together and stood in the center of the circle. “Students,” she announced. “We have ten minutes left, so if you could please move your easels to the windows and carefully lay your canvas’ on the table by the door. Please remember to be on the lookout for anyone who’d be willing to be a model for a few of our classes; they’ll be paid! _Grazie_!” Feliciano quickly stood up and followed the professor’s instructions; he loved his professor. She had a bubbly personality; she was someone who enjoyed life, and the world needed more people like her.

“Want to get some coffee?” Francis offered.

“No, _grazie_.” Feliciano simply declined. He carried his canvas to the table and went back to put his easel away. He rushed out of the room to avoid bumping into Francis one more time. He hurried to his favorite spot in the gardens (it was hidden from most common places in the gardens so he wouldn’t be bothered) and opened his sketchbook. Three pages were filled with what Feliciano could remember of Ludwig’s face, and since the day they met, he’d been searching to find the football player.

“ _Posso_?” He looked up to see Kiku standing before him, feeling relief. “May I?” Kiku repeated, gesturing to the spot on the lower step.

“Of course!” Feliciano cheered. Kiku smiled and bowed before taking his seat.

“It’s such a lovely day, isn’t it?” he asked, bringing up conversation.

“It is!” Feliciano agreed. “Hey, may I see some of your sketched?” Kiku hesitated before handing Feliciano his sketchbook. Feli opened to the first page to see cartoon like drawings and smiled. He had always loved the ‘manga’ style of art, and wished he could draw that style himself. “These are great! Are you going to be a manga artist?” Feliciano asked, noticing that some of the pages were like comics. Kiku smiled softy and moved to sit closer to him.

“That is one goal, yes.” Kiku answered. “Being a manga artist is hard work, but I’ve always enjoyed making my own manga.”

“That’s amazing!” Feliciano shouted, excited. “Do you think you can teach me to draw like this?”

“I can try,” Kiku answered. “Would you help me draw like your sketched?”

“Of course I can!” Kiku’s gentle smile grew wider as he nodded. Feliciano liked Kiku slightly more than Francis; he was quiet, much more polite and wasn’t constantly trying to flirt with him. The friendship was based on appreciating each other’s company, which meant that the two of them did not have to speak one another often.

“May I see your sketches?” Kiku asked. Feliciano handed his sketch book to Kiku and hesitantly watched him flip through the pages. It was nerve wracking to have another artist judge your work. It was impossible to tell how they would react to it. “I love how realistic your style is.” Kiku commented. “Is this a friend?” He lifted the book revealing a sketch of Ludwig’s face.

“I only met him a few days ago, but d-do you ever meet people who are unique that you have to draw them?” Feliciano explained, nervously.

“Yes, I know what you mean.” Kiku agreed. Feliciano sighed with relief; _good_ , someone understood. “So, who is this person? Does he live in Milano?”

“I believe so; he’s on a football team.” Feli answered. Kiku raised his eyebrows.

“Ah, the prestigious one that cause a lot of commotion in bars. Yes, I think I know what you’re referring to. I’ve seen them practicing in the nearby fields.” he said. “I’ve never seen so many blonds gather in one place before. It’s so weird.” Feliciano laughed.

“Is everyone blond on the team?” he asked.

“Seems like it, except the coach. He has white hair, I think. He’s a strange one.” Kiku laughed quietly. “I’m sorry, I’m still getting used to being in Europe. Everyone looks the same.” Feliciano chuckled.

“I suppose we do!”

The two continued comparing their cultures with one another. It was interesting for the both of them and helpful to understanding the culture shock Kiku was going through. Feliciano gave him some advice to what to do if he was lost or if someone over stepped their boundaries (it always disturbed foreigners when someone lightly touched them; Italians were always too touchy, apparently).

“If someone keeps harassing you for whatever reason, just shout _basta_ and they’ll leave you alone if you cause a big enough scene.” Feliciano explained. “And try to move your hands around a lot; blend in a little!”

“I’ll try my best,” Kiku mumbled. “Thank you for listening and being so understanding.”

“Anytime, Kiku!” Feliciano exclaimed.

“ _Mi scusi_ , but I should get going. My host family is probably wandering where I am.” Kiku excused, standing up. “Thank you again!” He waved and hurried off. Feliciano smiled to himself as he gathered his belongings, slung his satchel across his chest with one hand over the zippers.

As he walked down the street, he saw a large group of football players gathering outside a pizzeria. Just like Kiku had mentioned, they all were blond except for a select few. Feliciano slowly approached the group, looking around for Ludwig. Soon, he was pushing his way through the group in hopes of bumping into him. Instead, he ran into Mister Bushy-brows.

“Pardon me,” Arthur mumbled. He looked even worse than how he did a few days before. He had dark circles around his eyes and gave a glare that could kill. He had the trademark look of someone who had too much to drink the night before.

“ _Scusi, dove…_ ” Feliciano began.

“ _Non parlo italiano!_ ” Arthur hissed, angry.

“Okay, sorry,” Feliciano said, in English. He paused for a minute, thinking carefully about his next sentence. “Are you friends with Ludwig?” Arthur narrowed his bloodshot eyes at the Italian and nodded his head to where Ludwig stood. “Thank you.” Before Feliciano could walk away, he was pulled back.

“Why do you need to know?” Arthur questioned. Feliciano bit his lip; he really didn’t know why he wanted to see Ludwig. He wasn’t really expecting anything. “Oi, Ludwig!” Arthur hollered. “D’you know this bloke?” Ludwig turned around and looked at Feliciano.

“Felix…right?” he muttered, pointing his finger at Feli.

“Feliciano.” Feliciano corrected with a smile. “Close enough.”

“See, this is what I’m talking about; Italians speak English!” Arthur blurted.

“Literally not the right time, Arthur.” One of the other team members mumbled.

“ _Come va_?” Ludwig asked, switching to Italian. He was just as annoyed with Arthur as everyone else.

“ _Va bene_ ,” Feliciano answered, smiling. “And how are you?”

“Good, good,” Ludwig replied, sighing. “Is there something you need?” There was the question again. Feliciano didn’t really need Ludwig for anything but for artistic purposes.

“Oh, I saw you nearby and I thought I’d say hello!” Feliciano said, which wasn’t a total lie. “Um, also, there was something I wanted to ask…”

“Hey, we don’t have all day,” Arthur grumbled. “Say your ‘ciao’ and get on with it.” Ludwig glared at Arthur.

“ _Arschgeige_.”

“What?” Arthur shouted.

“Sorry for my friend; he’s the true definition of a dick.” Ludwig apologized. “Please, continue.”

“I…um…forgot my question.” Feliciano mumbled, keeping his head low.

“Say, do you play football, by chance?” Ludwig asked.

“Sometimes; only for fun.” Feli answered. “Why?”

“Maybe you’d like to play sometime? You look like someone who’d enjoy a simple game of football.” Ludwig continued. “We’re also looking for substitutes in case of emergency…”

“I’m not sure how much use I’d be, but I’ll think about it?”

“Sounds good!” Ludwig gave the softest and most beautiful smile. “I’m free tomorrow, would you like to meet then?” Feliciano nodded, pointing to the direction of the gardens.

“Noon?” he offered.

“ _Ja, gut_.” Ludwig replied, not realizing he had accidentally switched languages. “See you later!”

“ _Ciao_!” Feliciano waved as Ludwig sprinted across the street and joined the rest of his teammates. Feliciano sighed; what the hell was he even doing?

* * *

 

“The fuck do you think you are, Ludwig?” Arthur shouted across the table. “Inviting some random guy to practice?”

“I didn’t invite him to practice,” Ludwig clarified. “We’re meeting up to discuss a few things.” Arthur clenched his fists.

“You don’t even know this guy! Do you know how crazy that is?!” Arthur continued. “You’ve got something against us, huh?”

“No,” Ludwig groaned. He didn’t really know why he agreed to meet with Feliciano; he just wanted a change of pace. He wanted someone to talk to who wasn’t so into football, who had a different perspective of life. “It would be nice to be friends with some of the locals.” Arthur rolled his eyes and sipped his water. He raised his hand to flag down the waitress. She hurriedly shuffled towards their table with a notebook in her hand.

“ _Prego_.” she muttered.

“Pizza; and make sure there’s cheese on it.” Arthur ordered. The waitress scribbled the order down and looked up for the next order.

“ _Prosciutto e melone_.” Mathias requested.

“ _Caprese_.” Ludwig said. The waitress nodded, moving further along the table to get the other orders. “Don’t you speak with the locals, Arthur?” The Brit shrugged.

“Prefer not to it I’m honest.” he answered. “I’ve memorized the routes and places where people speak English fairly well. I’m only here for two more years…”

“You’ve had two years to pick it up! Are you _that_ bad with languages?!” Mathias teased.

“It’s not like I’m going to be living here for the rest of my life, so I don’t see the point.” Arthur mumbled.

“The English are almost as bad as the French, eh? Refusing to learn other languages but their own.” Mathias whispered to Ludwig in German. Ludwig chuckled as he sipped his water. There was a lot of truth in that statement; nearly all other countries grew up being force fed English and often French as well, along with their own Mother language. But yet, those who spoke those languages natively, barely learned the colors and numbers in another or downright refused to learn a second language.

“I know you’re talking about me,” Arthur growled. “Look, I can’t roll my r’s, so that’s why I haven’t tried.

“There are alternatives, you know.” Ludwig said. “What’s important is the accents on the right syllables, the rhythm and intonation.” Arthur sighed, standing up.

“Listen up everyone!” Arthur shouted, standing on top of a chair in the pizzeria. “We’ve got a game in a few weeks; Mathias, we need you to continue working your defense. Your offense is great, but your defense is a little slow.” Mathias lifted his water bottle and nodded.

“Aye, aye captain.” he replied.

“Actually, I need everyone to bring more defense on the playing field!” Arthur continued. “We’ve got to be quick on our tows because if we’re not, we’re going to be trampled.” Gilbert entered the restaurant and put his jacket on the chair beside his brother.

“How is everyone doing, hm? Good, I would assume,” Gilbert mumbled. He reached for a water bottle that sat in the middle of the tables pushed together. “I agree with what Arthur said; we all need to be quicker on our feet. Remember, we almost lost; the last team had a very good defense. We’re lucky for one, that our team captain is an exceptional goalie and that Ludwig was able to score some points for us.” Arthur smirked smugly while Ludwig groaned.

Arthur didn’t deserve praise at the moment.

“That’s what I said, Gilbert. I’m glad you agree whole heartedly.” Arthur chimed in, smugly. Ludwig scowled; Arthur was one of those self-absorbed people who would make out with themselves if they could.

“But also, we need to thank Ludwig, who’s an amazing striker and scored the last goal before the clock ran out. He scored the most today; give him a round of applause!” Gilbert continued, clapping his hands together.

“I wish you didn’t embarrass me, Gilbert.” Ludwig muttered under his breath.

“Alright everyone, as soon as you’re done with your food, go to the nearest bar and treat yourselves to a drink! Frist round is on me! _Prost_!” Gilbert cheered. The rest of the team cheered as well and began making their way to the bar except for Ludwig, who decided to stay behind. “Luddy, _komm schon_ , celebrate! Stop being so serious all the time!”

“Someone has to be sober, right?” Ludwig replied, keeping his voice low. “Especially if Arthur is celebrating.” Gilbert pulled out the chair beside his brother, turned it around backwards and sat down. He smiled brightly and laughed.

“Live a little, _Bruder_! What to the Americans say? Yolo?” he said, happily. “Besides, you, of all the team members, should be celebrating because I’m making you vice team captain!”

“Is that even a thing?” Ludwig asked. Gilbert shrugged

“I don’t know, but it is now!” he said, bubbly. “Listen, Arthur could use some help with the organization and such. He’s usually pretty good with it all, but lately he’s been drinking like there’s no tomorrow. So, help him out a little.” Gilbert paused and frowned. “By the way, our landlord raised our rent. I can pay most of it, but I can’t pay it in full any longer. I’m going to need you to find a job and help out.”

“Papa isn’t going to help?” Ludwig asked.

“Do you really think Papa cares?” Gilbert replied, sternly.

“He has to care somewhat.” Ludwig argued. Gilbert shook his head.

“Maybe he cares more about you, but he doesn’t give a shit about me,” he muttered, stretching. “Why do you think I was so eager to leave Berlin?” Ludwig remained silent. “I moved to Milan for a fresh start, to get away from that asshole. The only thing I wish was that I could’ve taken you with me.” Gilbert grinned. “ _Ich brauche ein Bier!_ Ludwig, tonight we celebrate for being successful without that _dummkopf_.” He stood up, let out a loud ‘whoop’ and walked away towards the bar. Ludwig slowly pushed his chair out and followed his brother to the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there is anything offensive or absolutely wrong in this chapter, please let me know ASAP and I will fix it. This includes any translation issues with languages. This chapter is a little longer than expected, especially for a short chapter, and it's probably a little boring. But I dunno making Arthur drunk is one of my favorite things ever. The next chapter for Tomatoes with Love (Spamano) should be up soon, if you are reading these stories together.
> 
> Critiques are welcome and very much appreciated! I always like getting kudos, but I do like receiving comments. I promise I do not bite.  
> ~Katelyn


	3. Suche

It did not happen very often, but every now and then, Feliciano would find himself in a foul mood just like his brother. On his way to class that morning, the Italian had ordered a cappuccino by the café a block away from the school, and someone had taken the cup before he had a chance to squeeze through the crowd and snatch it. Someone nearly ran him over as he crossed the street, so Feliciano ended up twisting his ankle from jumping out of the way. Then, the icing on the cake, there was some kid who tried to steal Feliciano’s satchel. Once he arrived to his classroom, Feliciano had one hell of a day, and it wasn’t even 10 o’ clock in the morning yet.

“ _Buongiorno._ ” Kiku kindly greeted as Feliciano walked past him.

“ _Buongirono_.” Feliciano replied, collapsing in the seat behind Kiku. He dropped his satchel behind his chair and rested his head against the slightly cool desk; he was already looking forward to a siesta. “How are you today, Kiku?” he groaned, trying to be polite. Kiku sighed and slumped in his seat.

“Very, very tired. I was up late reading the history chapters.” he answered. Feliciano lifted his head slightly to look at his friend.

“You mean you _actually_ read that?!” he exclaimed. “Wow; I read one word and fell asleep.” Feli reached down for his bag, pulled his textbook out and opened it. “See? There’s my droll stain!” Kiku laughed.

“Who says I didn’t fall asleep, hm?” he replied, opening his book as well. “Here’s my drool stain.” He pointed to a huge dried spot in the middle of the page. “I woke up in the middle of the droll puddle; it was quite disgusting.” Feliciano laughed loudly.

“Maybe we should get some coffee after this?” he suggested.

“Agreed,” Kiku said, smiling. “You look like you need it the most, I’m afraid.” He paused as he scanned around the room as if someone were to be listening in on their conversation. “Promise me your weird friend won’t be there.” Feliciano looked across the room to see Francis setting his bag on his desk and sitting down, brushing his long hair back with his hand. “Do you know who I’m talking about? The long haired one who sneaks glances at you.”

“Francis,” Feliciano sighed, rubbing his eyes. “We’ll just run off before he has the chance to ask.” Kiku nodded.

“Then we will need to be quick, considering we’re the furthest away from the door.” Kiku muttered.

“I take it you don’t like Francis.”

“He gives me strange vibes; I prefer to stay away from him.” Feliciano smirked.

“My brother would say--.” He began, but stopped himself.

Feliciano’s abrupt ending to his statement didn’t seem to phase Kiku. “He’s just so flirtatious or something. So forward. It gives me the, how you say, ‘heebie-jeebies’?” Feliciano raised an eyebrow, confused over the old phrase his friend had used, and shrugged. He couldn’t help but agree that Francis could come off as creepy at times, but Feli was sure Francis never meant to be that way.

The professor rushed into the classroom, slamming his briefcase on the front desk and began scribbling on the chalkboard. The small piece of chalk gave a loud squeak which naturally made every student in the room flinch and groan as they placed a hand over their right ear. “Alright, I know all of you are probably tired from adjusting to your new schedules, so I’ll give you an easy question to start off,” the professor announced, dusting off his hands. “What period was the Sistine Chapel painted?”

Feliciano groaned and rolled his eyes; was he _really_ asking this to a bunch of art enthusiasts? He reluctantly raised his hands, however. “Baroque.” he mumbled.

“Good, good.” The professor sighed with relief. Did he really think no one was going to be able to answer the easiest question in the world? Though, Feliciano supposed he had somewhat of an advantage considering he grew up in Rome and spent the majority of his life being surrounded by the start of Western art history. He came to the conclusion that he wouldn’t be needing the reading for the first half of the semester.

Fifty minutes passed slowly as the professor dragged on repeating information everyone in the class most likely already knew. As soon as the professor dismissed the class, Feliciano and Kiku gathered their belongings and made a bolt for the door. They were both quick, getting a few glares as they pushed by the others in the hallways; they were out of the building within a few minutes. Feliciano laughed as he spun around to find Kiku bent over his knees trying to catch his breath.

“You are quick, Feliciano.” he gasped. “How are you not out of breath?”

Feli shrugged. “I dunno; sometimes I work out.” Feli answered, pretending to flex his non-existent muscles. “Don’t you notice all the ladies checking me out?”

Kiku chuckled. “I’m sure they are impressed by your charming clumsiness.” he joked, straightening himself up. “Shall we?” He nodded his head in the direction of the street. They gave a nod of agreement and followed the crowds.

* * *

 

Both of the Beilschmidt brothers woke up by 6:00, fully dressed by 6:30 and finished breakfast by 7:30. However, this morning managed to be slightly of their regular routine.

Ludwig was awake at the normal time, but he smelled breakfast being made slightly earlier than usual. He wasn’t going to turn it down, however; sometimes it was good to be thrown off the daily routine. After getting dressed, Ludwig made his way to the kitchen, finding a woman standing by the stove scrambling eggs. He didn’t recognize her at all, and for a second he thought he had woken up in the wrong apartment. Quietly, Ludwig turned back around to fetch his brother when Gilbert emerged from his bedroom, partially dressed.

“ _Guten Morgen,_ Luddy! I see you’ve met Lizzy!” Gilbert greeted with a grin.

Ludwig narrowed his eyes. “Who’s Lizzy?” he asked.

“His girlfriend!” Ludwig quickly turned his head to see the woman carrying the pan filled with scrambled eggs over to the dining table. She gave him a warm smile, turning back to the stove to lower the heat. “Please call me Liz, I only let Gilbert get away with calling me Lizzy.”

“Has she always been here?” Ludwig questioned. “I’m not usually this oblivious…”

“Ah, she usually sleeps here, but she’s not much of a morning person.” Gilbert clarified.

“Usually?”

“Yeah…” Gilbert coughed awkwardly and scratched the back of his head. “I kinda…uh…woke her up this morning.”

Ludwig wrinkled his nose in slight disgust and made his way over to the dining table, taking a seat. “Care to explain why you never told me you had a girlfriend?” he asked, reaching for a plate.

Gilbert shrugged. “I figured you would figure it out eventually,” he muttered, taking a seat next to his brother. “Which hey, you did! Hooray!”

“So, uh,” Ludwig cleared his throat. “Liz, do you live here then?”

“Eh, kinda sorta; most of the time, I suppose. Sometimes I’m running about so much I don’t want to walk in late and wake up your brother; he’s so grouchy if he doesn’t get his sleep.” Liz replied, sitting down across from the two brothers. “He’s told you that I’m also your team’s manager, right?”

“ _Was?!?_ ”

“I’m the…team mana—oh for fuck’s sake, Gil, did you not tell him that either?!” Liz shouted, glaring at her partner.

“What? You know how forgetful I am!” Gilbert excused.

“I know! You forgot our second anniversary six months ago!” Liz added, angry.

“Second anniversary? Like, second month?” Ludwig asked.

Liz sighed and shook her head. “Second _year_.” She clarified. “Seriously Gilbert, what’s the point of having a brain if you don’t use it?”

“Two years? Y-you’ve been together for two years?! Why didn’t you tell me?!” Ludwig hollered.

“But I just did, didn’t I?” Gilbert replied, snickered. Liz gave him a kick in the shin under the table and let out a sigh as her boyfriend groaned in pain.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t say hi earlier, Ludwig; I would’ve thought your brother would’ve kept you in the loop about his life.” she muttered, spreading strawberry jam on her toast. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

“How did you two…end up…?” Ludwig murmured. He still couldn’t fathom that his brother accidentally managed to keep a secret from him; Gilbert was always terrible with keeping secrets and remembering important information. His brother had never seemed to be interested in finding a girlfriend in the first place, so all of this was so foreign to him.

“Oh, we didn’t get along at first. I was assigned to manage your team at first, and I thought I was going to kill Gilbert; he can be such a little shit sometimes, and when we first met, he was incredibly arrogant. I could barely stand being around him.” Liz explained.

Gilbert laughed. “Yeah, don’t let her beautiful looks fool you; she ended up breaking my nose when I challenged her that she couldn’t beat me on a one on one game.” he chimed in. “I deserved it though.”

“You sure did, and I kicked your ass in that game too.” Liz agreed. “But after a while, and I still don’t know why, he became persistent that we go on a date after that game. I was intrigued, because I knew the date would be a disaster, so I eventually agreed. The date, surprisingly enough, went well, so we kept going on dates here and there.”

“And so, things led to another, we fell in love and yadda, yadda, yadda.” Gilbert muttered, waving his hand about. “You know how it goes. I bet you thought I couldn’t find a girl who’d be able to put up with me!”

“No, I didn’t think you would…” Ludwig agreed. “How _do_ you put up with him, Liz?”

She shrugged. “Love makes you do some incredibly dumb shit, and putting up with Gil is one of them.” she answered, smiling a little bit.

“Aw, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me.” Gilbert joked.

“Two years,” Ludwig muttered under his breath. “I can’t believe it.”

“There are days where I can’t either.” Liz teased. “But, if I’m honest, my life would be boring without your brother.”

“Oh now you’re just being sappy,” Gilbert chucked, resting his chin against his palm. “But yeah, I know I’m pretty awesome.”

“Don’t push it.” Liz hissed. 

“So! Luddy! What’re you up to today?” Gilbert asked, quickly changing the subject before Liz kicked him again. “Don’t forget you’ve gotta find something that’ll help us with the rent.”

Ludwig hesitated before he answered. He hadn’t thought about it since his brother had asked him to get a job, and for some reason it hadn’t occurred to him to go online and check what was available in the area. “I’m going to look around today; Mathias said he might have some recommendations so I’m meeting with him.” Ludwig lied.

“ _Sehr gut_! You’re opening up!” Gilbert cheered. “Didn’t I see you talking to a local the other day as well? You should ask them too.”

“Ah, you’ll have an easier time finding something since you speak the language,” Liz commented, cutting a peach in half. “From what I remember, Arthur had a hell of a time finding a job because he is just so blatantly rude. Mathias struggled too, but that’s because he struggled with speaking Italian clearly enough.”

“Start with the cafes; they’re always looking for baristas.” Gilbert added. He patted his brother’s shoulder and chuckled. “You’ll find something with no problem, I’m sure of it!”

“Yes, and if worse comes to worse, I’m sure you could model for the art students nude!”

Ludwig laughed nervously as he stood up to take his dishes to the sink. “Well, let’s hope it never comes to that.”

* * *

 

People watching was one of the greatest past times Feliciano loved to do. The icing on the cake, typically, was watching the foreigners fidget and quietly grow annoyed with the slow service in Italian shops and restaurants. Whether he realized it or not, Feliciano was being entertained by watching Kiku shift annoyed as they waited for their _caffè_ and _panini_.

“How long does it take to bring out two espressos and sandwiches?” Kiku asked, quietly. He turned subtly and glanced at the front counter. “There’s hardly anyone in here.”

Feliciano smiled to himself. “Maybe they had to bake the bread. Or maybe they ran out of coffee beans.” he replied, simply. “This is when we’re supposed to have a casual conversation.”

“I know that, but,” He looked over his shoulder again, blinking quickly with frustration. “It’s been thirty minutes.”

Feliciano couldn’t help but laugh; was the rest of the world this impatient? “Why are you in a hurry? We don’t have class for another good,” Feliciano checked his cell phone. “Three hours. Am I terrible company?”

“No, no, it’s just…”

“Then enjoy life! Savor the moments!” Feliciano reassured. “Look at how lovely the decorations are, check out that girl’s cool tattoo. Smell the food cooking mixed in with the smell of coffee.” Feli took a deep breath and smiled. “Life’s beautiful, _sì_?” Kiku rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, trying to mimic Feli’s body language and motto. Just then, the waiter placed two tiny espresso cups in front of them and their sandwiches. Relieved, Kiku sighed and eagerly took a bite of his sandwich. He soon began waving his hand in front of his mouth, the universal sign that the food was too hot.

“See? Worth the wait, yes?” Feliciano said, happily. Kiku gave him a quick glare, silently saying that it was questionable and sipped his espresso. “Do you like being in Italy” Feliciano asked, gliding his finger over the edge of the cup.

“I do, it’s just…I’m still adjusting.” Kiku replied, taking another sip. He sighed with content. “Though, I would say _this_ was worth the wait.” Feliciano grinned; espresso was _always_ worth the wait. “Have you heard that our painting class is looking for models? No one special, anyone with some self-confidence who needs extra cash will do. I think.” Kiku added, setting his cup down.

“Interesting.” Feliciano muttered. “And I suppose we’re supposed to find the models?”

Kiku nodded. “They want a list of people who are interested. I guess people tend to sign up but then get weirded out at the last minute. Or maybe they’re just supposed to speak with the professor? _Non so_.” Feliciano leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his palms. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Francis signs himself to do it, though that would be pointless considering he’s a student as well.”

“True; he’d want everyone to see his beautiful body.” Feliciano groaned. “It’s probably better that we find people outside of the school.”

“Do you have anyone in mind?”

Feliciano thought of asking his brother, particularly as a joke, because he knew there was no way in hell Lovino would agree to such a thing. Other than that, there wasn’t anyone who came to mind.

As he sipped his drink, he heard the door open and slam shut and in his peripheral vision, he saw Ludwig step up to the counter.

“ _Scusi_ , do you have any job offers? I’m new in the area and I’m looking—“ Feliciano overheard Ludwig begin. Feliciano turned to watch the interaction and eavesdrop on their conversation. He watched as the barista shook her head and gave a sad smile.

“I’m sorry sir, there are no open positions here. We hope you will be able to find something in the area.” she answered.

“ _Grazie_ , I might be able to find some offers in the _giornale_.” Ludwig sighed, his shoulders slumped in disappointment.

“Would you like some coffee while you’re here?” the barista added.              

Ludwig sighed, swinging his bag around and searched for his wallet.

“Espresso, _per favore_.”

Once Ludwig turned around, Feliciano began waving to catch his attention. “ _Ciao_ , Ludwig!” he called out. Ludwig stopped in his tracks and looked around to find who had called out his name. He spotted the Italian, nodded and started to set his belongings at another table. “Hey, why don’t you come over here?!”

“What?” Kiku hissed, quickly spinning around to see Ludwig.

“Ludwig’s nice, like me, don’t worry about it!” Feli assured, whispering. Ludwig made his way over to their table and waved awkwardly to Kiku. “Ludwig, this is my friend Kiku; he’s an art student like me!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Kiku.” Ludwig greeted.

“It’s nice to meet you as well.” Kiku murmured, giving a half bow while being seated.

“May I join the two of you?” the German asked.

“ _Sì, sì, sì, sì!_ Of course, of course!” Feliciano exclaimed, standing up. “You can have my seat, I’ll find another chair!” Feliciano ran over to an empty table and pulled over a seat. “Are we still on playing a little football later?”

Ludwig sighed. “As much as I’d love to, I have some things to attend to,” he answered, rubbing his forehead. “I’m searching for a job; our landlord raised our rent and though my brother is paying for most of it, I have to pull my weight.”

“We might be able to help!” Feliciano said. Kiku raised an eyebrow, looking back and forth between Feliciano and Ludwig. A small smirk curled over his lips. “It might not pay much, but it’s something.”

“What is it?” Ludwig sat up and smiled, enthused.

“Well…it’s a modelling job…for a paint class.” Kiku answered for Feli.

“Modelling?” Ludwig repeated. “L-look, that’s nice of you to offer, but I want something that isn’t…weird.”

“Oh, but modelling isn’t weird.” Feli chimed in. Kiku’s knowing smirk grew wider.

"I won’t be naked, will I?” Ludwig asked.

“Maybe…maybe not.” Feliciano said, nonchalantly. “But it’s paid! And you hardly have to do anything! It’s a win-win situation, no?” Ludwig hesitated as the barista brought out his espresso. “Think about it, okay?”

“ _J-ja._ ” The German sighed.

“Well, Kiku and I should get back to the school; I know I have to be sure I’ve got all of my assignments done.” Feliciano said, rising to his feet. “See you around?”

Ludwig nodded, giving a gentle smile back. “See you around.”  

Kiku led the way out of the café, chuckling to himself. Feliciano caught up to him and gave him a confused look.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

Kiku glanced over at him before muttering: “Someone’s got a _huge_ crush.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for not updating sooner; I'm really good at procrastinating. Hopefully this chapter is interesting, or funny or what have you. Please let me know if there's anything incorrect in this chapter! Comments are welcomed and very much appreciated! 
> 
> -Katelyn

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the GerIta fic that is a spin off of Tomatoes with Love. I will be trying to post a chapter for each at the same time, because I'm lame and think that's a neat idea to do. I know both stories are kinda lame, but they're kind of a breath of fresh air compared to other fic that I'm trying to wrap up. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Also, I wrote this while I was in Italy so there's probably too much Italian throughout and I'm sorry. I was in the culture while writing about the culture and I couldn't help but take advantage of it? I'm sorry I'm really lame. But enjoy the chapter! 
> 
> ~Katelyn


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